


Initiation

by rei_c



Series: Pan of the Preserve [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demigod Stiles Stilinski, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Gen, POV Child, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 00:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: Stiles is only eight but his tree's really old and there's a pine in the preserve that wants him to knoweverything, so Stiles is maybe a little smarter than he should be. He doesn't mind, even though he thinks it'd be easier to be like Scott. Being human like Scott would be nice, sometimes, Stiles guesses, but he wouldn't trade what he is. He'll never try to be human the way his mom has, especially now he knows what doing that would do to him.Dementia, dad called it. Aunt 'Rina told him that dementia's a good name for it for humans, but that he should know the truth.





	Initiation

"But it's _summer_ ," Scott whines. "Why do you have to leave?" 

"Because I go every summer," Stiles says. "And I like going? Aunt 'Rina's nice and Louisiana's -- it's hotter than here but it's nice, too, and I get to see some of my cousins and aunts and uncles and I have no bedtime." 

Scott groans, says, "Oh my god, no bedtime. Can I come with you?" 

Stiles thinks about that for a second, tries to put Scott in the middle of his family talking to trees and coaxing up flowers out of season, of lessons with Aunt 'Rina and hours spent running through the woods with his pack, of the way Stiles already knows he's going to long for his tree and his forest and try to distract himself by playing with foxes and wolves and muddling his own scent and sneaking sips of the pomegranate-and-blood juice Aunt 'Rina rations with an iron fist. "It's really humid," he ends up saying. "I don't think you'd be able to breathe." 

"Bummer," Scott says. "I'm gonna miss you, Stiles." 

"I'll miss you, too," Stiles says. He halfway means it.

\--

The plane ride is his least favourite part of the summer but at least this time he's got a part of his tree and a sliver of the bratty mountain ash's bark with him. Stiles still can't _hear_ his tree and he can't feel the earth, but he knows to expect it and he's got a twig in his hands, is able to run his fingers over the bark, and pretend. He doesn't know how his mom can stand to do this so much. 

Mom. This is the first time he's going to Louisiana by himself, because mom's in the hospital and -- and it doesn't look good. He hates her, a little bit, because he knows she's doing it to herself. She could've stopped this at any time, still could stop it, by bonding to something a little stronger than her sunflowers, but she chooses not to. Stiles knows it has more to do with her fear of what she is -- she reeks of it, sometimes, when she looks at him, when she finds him talking to his tree or coming back from a walk through his territory -- than anything else, but he would've appreciated her loving him more than being afraid of herself. He's part of the problem, though, and he makes it a little more difficult to love him every time she watches him embrace what she's too scared to.

Stiles is only eight but his tree's really old and there's a pine in the preserve that wants him to know _everything_ , so Stiles is maybe a little smarter than he should be. He doesn't mind, even though he thinks it'd be easier to be like Scott. Being human like Scott would be nice, sometimes, Stiles guesses, but he wouldn't trade what he is. He'll never try to be human the way his mom has, especially now he knows what doing that would do to him.

Dementia, dad called it. Aunt 'Rina told him that dementia's a good name for it for humans, but that he should know the truth. She's going to tell him this summer; she said something about initiating him into the family mysteries. He's relatively sure he's too young -- the tree definitely thinks so, and the group of birch trees near the stream weren't impressed, either -- but he wants to know what _their_ madness is called. He can smell it on his mom, knows that it isn't anything natural, not with the way it swirls around her, kind of -- wafts out and gets tugged back. Aunt 'Rina's smelled of it a few times, too, but when she gets angry, the smell goes up and out, and she never pulls it back, so it coming back means something, might explain why his mom's -- why his mom's sick.

Stiles clutches his twig, pulls his knees up to his chest, holds on tight as the plane shakes. 

He _hates_ flying. 

\--

Cousin Leelee's waiting for him at the airport. Stiles tugs his hand out of the flight attendant's and flings himself at his cousin, shrieks, "Leeleeeeeeeee! You came to get me!" 

There are few laughs from people around them and Leelee sighs, but she clings as tight to Stiles as Stiles does to her. "Happy summer holidays, Pan-ling," she tells him. "Now let go; I have to sign some forms before we can leave. Say thank you to the long-suffering woman who had to put up with you." 

Stiles disentangles himself from his cousin, turns to the flight attendant and says, properly, "Thank you very much for putting up with me. And for the extra cookies; they were really good."

The flight attendant laughs, ruffles his hair, and it's not long before Cousin Leelee's leading him out of the airport and towards the parking deck. Unlike mom, she doesn't put the child lock on his window; in fact, she puts all the windows in the car down and doesn't get upset when Stiles sticks his head out of the window to shout hello to all the plants and trees and grass they pass on their three and a half hour drive to their little corner of Cajun country. She points out her own favourite trees and bushes and shrubs, lets Stiles stroke the braided cypress around her wrists and neck, and tells him what he's missed since last summer. 

Stiles doesn't have favourites in the family but if he did, Cousin Leelee would be pretty high on the list.

\--

Camille's waiting with Renaud and Louis when Leelee parks in front of Aunt 'Rina's house. Stiles tumbles out of the car, a blur of limbs, and runs toward them, chanting, "Cam! Cam! Cam!" over and over again. He throws himself into Camille's arms, buries his face in Camille's neck as Camille lifts him up and holds him close, as Renaud rubs his cheek on Stiles' neck and Louis grips the curve of Stiles' ankle. 

" _Content de te revoir, bébé_ ," Camille says. 

Stiles lets out a happy sigh, bites a little at Camille's throat, then squirms until Camille loosens his hold enough for Stiles to rub cheeks with Louis and lick at the bottom of Renaud's jaw. "Hi, pack," Stiles says. "I missed you." 

"And you'll have plenty of time to catch up with them while you're here," Aunt 'Rina says. 

Stiles winces, exchanges a look with Camille that has Renaud covering his mouth. Stiles isn't sure why, because there's nothing weird about his mouth? Maybe he's got food caught in his fangs? "Adults are so weird," he says, and wriggles until Camille puts him down. Stiles goes over to Aunt 'Rina, looks up at her and inhales to get the full depth of her oak-bark-and-cherry scent. She's not _too_ angry with him, thankfully. "Hi, Aunt 'Rina. I, uh. So, the pack's really tall? And I didn't see you? So I just figured you were inside and it would be rude to ignore the pack to go looking for you and you always tell me not to be rude, so I thought that I -- you don't believe a word I'm saying, do you." 

Aunt 'Rina laughs and opens her arms. Stiles goes into them, hugs her fiercely, smiles when she hugs him back so hard that his shoulder pops. "It's so good to have you back, Pan-ling," she murmurs. "Welcome home." 

"I missed you, too," Stiles says, and isn't sure why he suddenly feels like crying. "Missed you so much, Aunt 'Rina, I really did, and I tried to call but dad told me I had to ask permission for long-distance phone calls and he never gave it when I told him I wanted to call you or Cam and mom got real mad every time I mentioned anything about family or pack even when I _wasn't_ talking about you and it's horrible and they're the worst and I don't want to go back, please don't make me go back." 

"Oh, Pan-ling," Aunt 'Rina says. She doesn't seem to mind that Stiles is crying right on her, is getting her dress damp with tears and snot, so he doesn't stop. He lets her pick him up, take him inside and up to his room, the one with Spiderman posters on the walls and a whole heap of cotton blankets on the bed. Aunt 'Rina tucks him in, strokes his forehead, hums one of Stiles' favourite lullabies for a few minutes as he hiccups his way out of crying and into tiredness. "Rest now, child," she tells him. "You're here, you're safe, and I know you're exhausted. Sleep. Things will look better when you wake up." 

Stiles blinks up at her, asks, "Promise?" because Aunt 'Rina has never once broken a promise to him. She doesn't make promises lightly and has always told him not to, either, because promises mean something to their family that they don't mean to most people. 

Aunt 'Rina smiles, even while the scent of cherries around her blooms into something bigger, something that should be scary but just feels protective. "Pan-ling," she says. "Have I ever lied to you?" 

"Not 'n answer," Stiles says, even as his eyes are closing. "Didn' promise." 

"You're too smart for your own good, my love," she says. 

She presses a kiss to Stiles' forehead and Stiles falls asleep. 

\--

When Stiles wakes up, it's dark outside. He takes a minute to stretch, checks in with his tree and territory, says hello to the ivy climbing the walls and covering the ceiling and draws his fingers down the container lemon tree in the corner that likes to sing, makes sure that the shiny rocks and dried flowers and alligator teeth the pack's brought him over the past few summers are still on his desk, then ties his red blankie around his neck like a cape and goes racing out into the hallway and downstairs. 

"Please tell me I didn't miss dessert," he says, bursting into the kitchen, a little out of breath from his manic trip through the house. "Cousin Leelee said that Cousin Emily was gonna bring over calas and pralines and ice box -- oh my god, you're all here, _hi_!" 

Stiles whirls around the crowded table, hugging and high-fiving everyone, stealing calas from Aunt Jan and a praline from Aunt Diana, rubbing noses with Cousin Emily and giving Cousin Hannah a raspberry on the cheek, finally getting hauled onto Aunt 'Rina's lap. Cousin Leelee slides a plate with a piece of lemon ice box pie into Stiles' hands, offering a fork a moment later. 

He takes the fork, has a bite halfway up to his mouth before he pauses, looks up at Aunt 'Rina, and says, "I haven't had supper yet." She nods, grinning, and Stiles frowns, says, "But I'm -- going to eat dessert?" Aunt 'Rina purposely looks away from Stiles, starts whistling, and Stiles grins, digs into the food, giddy at the permission. Aunt 'Rina's cherries smell good, too, like sugar and frost, so she's super happy he asked. Stiles would do a lot to keep Aunt 'Rina smelling that happy. 

"Oh my god this is so good," Stiles says. He's shovelling the bites in, eating as fast as he can, and he groans in disappointment when dessert's all gone and the plate's empty. "Aw, fudge," he says. "No fair." 

"Speaking of fudge," Cousin Mel says, dumping three pieces of caramel walnut fudge on Stiles' empty plate. 

He gasps in delight, immediately has one piece in his mouth, melting and thickening and sticking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Hmgdsgdtnkycsnml," Stiles tries to say. Aunt 'Rina clucks her tongue and Stiles waits until he's swallowed the majority of the fudge to say, "Sorry." He's got caramel stuck in the back of his teeth and chocolate smeared on his mouth and his family's all right there and Aunt 'Rina smells so happy. "Oh my god I love you guys," Stiles blurts out. "This is the _best_." 

There's a moment of silence and then the kitchen breaks out in noise. Stiles grins, settles back into Aunt 'Rina, and picks at the walnuts on the other pieces of fudge, looking around at everyone, soaking everything in: the smell of food, the humid air, the collision of his aunts' and cousins' scents, the way everyone's smiling and laughing and his tummy's full and Aunt 'Rina's _right here_ and his tree seems happy that Stiles is happy and the territory's finally stopped complaining about him being gone and --

"Pan-ling." 

Uh-oh. The room's gone quiet. Most of the family looks confused, a couple of them are looking at him like they're trying to figure him out -- his teachers generally give him that look; Stiles is very familiar with it -- and Cousin Mel and Cousin Leelee, on either side of him, are leaning toward him, heads tilted like the way the pack does when they've caught a scent they're not used to. Aunt 'Rina puts one hand on Stiles' neck, squeezes a little, and he gives into it. It's not as good as when Renaud does it, not half as good as when Camille does -- which is weird, right, because Renaud's the alpha and Stiles should respond to him more, or better, or something, but it's like he imprinted on Camille instead even though he's not a baby duck, he's a baby _Pan_ , he can't even get pack instincts right and -- 

"Pan-ling, breathe," Aunt 'Rina tells him. Stiles does, follows Aunt 'Rina's breathing, leans back into her even more, until he's practically sprawled out on her lap, only staying on her knee thanks to her holding him, the scent of her cherries and tree bark mixing with his tree bark and kudzu and magnolia blossom, the combination going straight to his head and making him hazy. "Pan-ling, did you bond with a territory?" 

Stiles isn't hazy anymore. The room's gone still, all eyes focused on him, some of them narrowed, some of them wide. 

"You're _eight_ ," Cousin Leelee says. 

"Uh," Stiles says. "I mean, technically I was seven? It was before my birthday." He turns, tells Aunt 'Rina, "That's why I was trying to call you. I mean, it's a big reason; I wanted to talk to you before then and after then about different stuff but you said to call if something happened and I figured this was the kind of thing that qualified as a 'something' but dad wouldn't let me and so I told my tree to tell your tree to tell you but it got kinda confused about what it was supposed to say because it figured that it being a part of the territory meant you'd already know I was bonded to the territory and why would you need to know something you already knew, which I thought was kind of a good point and you already knew that the territory was interested in me -- I mean, you even said it to my mom, the first time she brought me, and --"

Aunt 'Rina's eyes narrow just enough to cut Stiles off mid-sentence. He swallows, licks his lips, gives Aunt 'Rina his best apologetic look. She lets out a breath, shakes her head, leans down and presses a kiss to his hair. 

"'M sorry?" Stiles says, quiet now. "I'll -- I don't wanna break up with the territory but I will if you want me to." 

His bond to the preserve clings tight at that, hugs its part of Stiles so fiercely that Stiles nearly passes out. The nemeton's unhappy, too, and is clamouring loud in the back of Stiles' mind. 

"I would never ask a Pan to turn his back on his territory," Aunt 'Rina says, clearly. "So calm down." Stiles breathes a sigh of relief as the preserve and nemeton both grumble -- but do it quietly. "Stiles. Sweetheart. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with your parents." She pauses, asks, "You do know this means you have to go back? You have to be close to your territory and your tree, Pan-ling. I know that they're magic, but even magic only stretches so far." 

"Yeah," Stiles says. He looks down at his hands, picks at some dirt under one of his fingernails. "I know." 

Aunt 'Rina puts one hand over Stiles', stilling his fingers, then tilts his chin up so he has to look at her. "One of your Aunt Vesna's children is going to move to Beacon Hills," she says. Stiles' heart skips a beat as he drops his jaw in shock. "She was born with empty hands but she has a little magic of her own. Healing magic." 

Stiles stares at her, mind racing. Empty hands, that means she wasn't born with a pelt, which means she's human, not a maenad -- but she has magic, too, not the family's but still, magic. The pine tree's whispering things now, and so are the birches, but there's a quiet, thoughtful, hum of support from the nemeton and the preserve claimed him but the tree is _his_ and it approves, so maybe Stiles isn't the only one thinking this is a great idea. 

"She's going for mom, isn't she," Stiles says. "I -- I'd like that." 

"She's also going to be there for you," Aunt 'Rina says. "She's not one of us but she was raised by Vesna, in Vesna's grove. She understands in a way that most humans can't. You'll have somewhere to go when you need it and she won't ever stop you from attending to your territory. You'll even be allowed to call me, and Camille, and any of the family, any of the pack, whenever you want to, for whatever reason." 

The freedom of that takes Stiles' breath away. "I -- yes," he says. " _Yes_."

"I'm picking her up from the airport in about a month," Cousin Mel says. "You'll have time to get to know her here and she'll head to California a couple weeks before you go back, so she'll be all moved in and set up by the time you get there. I've met her," she tells Stiles, grinning. "She's pretty okay. I think you'll get along just fine." 

Stiles beams back -- it's impossible not to smile at Cousin Mel when she's smiling because her smile is wide and beaming and shows off her crooked teeth a little but her crooked teeth are cute, not like Mrs. Vellman's crooked teeth which are kind of scary even when she gets food stuck in them and glares whenever someone points it out even though they're trying to be helpful, which is super rude and would make Aunt 'Rina hate Mrs. Vellman as much as Stiles does, even if it's for a different reason. 

Cousin Leelee reaches over, touches Stiles' knee, and his smile wobbles and drops as she says, "Pan-ling, can you -- how's your mom doing? Really doing, I mean." 

"You know how when Aunt 'Rina gets mad," he starts off, voice shaking a little, "and her cherries kind of get lost under -- under whatever that is? Mom's starting to get like that. A lot. Except that Aunt 'Rina's -- it goes out, right? And mom's goes right back into her." He looks down again, bites at the skin around his thumbnail. "Sometimes she doesn't know who I am. She -- she cries a lot? And sometimes she throws things. Dad had her put in the hospital a few weeks ago because she. Um." 

"Out with it, Pan-ling," Aunt 'Rina says. "Fast, like a band-aid." 

Stiles nods, steels himself, reaches out and lets the tree curl around him. "Because she tried to kill me." 

Aunt 'Rina doesn't move but the flare of -- whatever that is comes out of her is strong, overpowering. It's coming from the others, too, and the heft of it fills the room entirely. It presses down on Stiles, a little, and he gasps, clutches his chest, as he feels warm and safe and a little bit angry.

There's a slow swell of noise, the rise of muttered conversations. Stiles can't follow any one of them, just hears parts of all of them as Aunt 'Rina holds him tight.

"How dare she even --" 

"-- youngest Pan in six centuries --" 

" -- show her the meaning of frenzy --"

" -- to her own son --"

"-- such a shame that it's --" 

"-- she had such potential when she --" 

"-- can't send him back --" 

"-- father won't do anything so --" 

"-- can't know how this'll affect --" 

"It's not her fault." Stiles swallows as everyone looks at him, ducks his head and bites his bottom lip. 

Aunt 'Rina runs her hands through his hair, asks, "Why not, Pan-ling?" 

Stiles shrugs one shoulder. "She's just scared." Aunt 'Rina hums, one of those noises that means Stiles is supposed to keep talking. He doesn't feel like it. It's not complicated; mom's scared of what she is, Stiles is the same thing -- kind of -- but even more, so she's scared of him, too. Killing might be an extreme response but she's sick, she can't control it, and it's not like Stiles was hurt or anything, so what does it even matter? Besides, killing isn't a _bad_ thing, exactly, just a choice. 

The tree coos at him, runs twigs over Stiles' arms, shoulders, rustles comfortingly in his ears. 

"We have a lot of traditions in our family," Aunt 'Rina says. "When we start telling a maenad or Pan the family secrets, we always do it as a group. That's why all of your aunts and cousins are here. Do you understand that?" 

"I know that some of the trees in the preserve think I'm too young," Stiles says. He looks up at Aunt 'Rina, asks, "One of the legends is why mom's feeling gets trapped and yours doesn't, isn't it? That's what you're going to tell me about?" 

Aunt 'Rina smiles at him. "It seems the most reasonable place to start," she says, "because your trees are right. We like to wait until our maenads and Pans are teenagers. But you've always been smarter than you look --" 

"Hey!" 

"-- and this is something you need to know."

Cousin Mel gets up, pushes her chair right up to Aunt 'Rina's, and hoists Stiles into it. Aunt 'Rina tugs him close, keeps an arm wrapped around him while Cousin Leelee leans across Aunt 'Rina, fixes her eyes on Stiles. "We don't have to tell you anything right now," she says. "If you don't want us to, we won't. It's your choice, Pan-ling." 

Stiles thinks about that for a second. He wants to know -- Stiles wants to know everything all the time, which he thinks annoys most of the grown-ups back home because they always tell him to stop asking questions -- but he gets the feeling that knowing will change things -- things or him, either one -- and it won't help his mom. 

"I want to know," Stiles says.

"It's called _bakkheia_ ," Cousin Mel says. Stiles twists to see her, where she's sitting on the counter next to the platter of pralines. Stiles isn't quite sure how she's sitting _right next to them_ and isn't shoving them all in her mouth as fast as possible. That's what he'd be doing. "Frenzy. It's a type of madness." 

Stiles frowns, says, "Like dementia. That's why the doctors can't tell the difference?" 

" _Bakkheia_ is chaos," Cousin Mel says. "It's dangerous and unpredictable and is something that humans -- plain humans, like your mom's doctors -- can't understand." 

"It's a little like a tornado," Aunt 'Rina tells him. "You know how no one knows when they're going to happen? Or where they'll touch down? It's like that for us, sometimes." Cousin Mel cracks her knuckles; Aunt 'Rina clucks her tongue at the noise and Cousin Mel just grins widely. Stiles snickers, can't help it. "But there are times when we know it will happen," Aunt 'Rina goes on. She looks, sounds, a little hesitant now. "When we know to expect it."

Stiles looks at Aunt 'Rina, asks, "So -- so sometimes it just happens but sometimes we should know it's gonna happen? Like when?" 

"Sometimes when we -- sometimes we're asked to sacrifice," Aunt 'Rina says. "To kill. It depends on our trees or territories or plants, whatever we're bound to. Some of them will never ask. Your tree, Pan-ling --." 

She stops there but Stiles knows what she's trying to say. He just doesn't know why she sounds like he might be scared of what she's saying. "It's old and hungry," Stiles says. "And it's magic. It's going to ask for a lot. That's okay, I already know that. I already feed it." 

Aunt 'Rina lets out a sigh, looks at the ceiling. "Of course you do. What kind of food?"

"It likes peaches?" Stiles says. "Also rice pudding, which is good because I don't like rice pudding at _all_ and Mrs. Grant always brings dad, like, _buckets_ of it at the station and they're tired of it there so he brings it home and it makes the garbage smell, like, super weird, but I've been taking some to the tree and it eats it right up! With cheese, which, ew, but hey, at least the garbage doesn't smell as bad?" Cousin Leelee's smiling at him and Cousin Trish is laughing. Stiles is proud of himself for cheering them up but Aunt Jan's got her eyebrows raised so Stiles groans, says, "Okay, so there was this one time that I sort of -- it doesn't want humans yet so it's been sticking to squirrels and rabbits and this one time there was a cat, and I found a pile of what I'm pretty sure are vole bones near the some of the roots and I didn't even know we had voles, but I looked them up when I was at the library and it was some kind of thing _like_ a vole so that's what I'm saying it is, but the tree said there are wolves out there too, which is weird, right? Because wolves aren't in California, so they have to be _loup-garous_ like the pack, so maybe the wolves ate the voles? Except the tree doesn't like the wolves so it keeps playing hide-and-seek with them; the tree's been winning for, like, thirty years, so I don't know if it's really a game anymore. D'you think it still counts as a game?"

Cousin Mel leans forward so much that Stiles is half afraid she's going to slide off the counter and take the pralines with her. He's not allowed to eat food off the floor. The pralines better not fall. 

"Cousin Stiles," Cousin Mel says. "You said your tree doesn't want humans _yet_. You're going to be okay feeding it people?" 

"Duh," Stiles says. "It's _my tree_. It told me I have a few years but, like, sometimes when it gets really thirsty it likes to drink me? Feeding it a whole person's just -- how'd the birch -- right, a matter of scale, that's how the birch put it. I like that: a matter of scale. Scales are cool."

Aunt 'Rina buries her face in Stiles' hair, mutters something too quietly for Stiles to make out. 

"Camille's favourite descriptor of Cousin Stiles is 'lethal,'" Cousin Grace says. "I'm starting to see why." 

"Wait," Stiles says. He squirms around until he's looking up Aunt 'Rina, asks, "Is that why mom stuck to sunflowers? Because they don't ask for much? Is she scared of feeding something bigger? Because that's dumb."

Cousin Leelee nods, says, "It is dumb." 

Aunt 'Rina flicks Cousin Leelee in the ear. Cousin Leelee rolls her eyes, slips Stiles a chunk of fudge. Stiles shoves it in his mouth before Aunt 'Rina can tell him not to and beams at Cousin Leelee. 

" _Our_ madness, _bakkheia_ ," Cousin Mel says, and Stiles has to turn _back_ around, man, why'd she have to sit behind him? "It doesn't hurt us when we accept what we are; we channel the power and it goes outwards. But because your mom's never accepted her heritage, it's attacking her instead. Do you understand that, Pan-ling? That's why you've felt it turn back on her instead of going outwards." 

" _Back-- bakkheia_ is _such_ a hard word," Stiles says. "But it's ours, isn't it. Our family's. No one else has it?" 

Cousin Mel nods. "Only our family," she says. "It's one of our greatest gifts. Some of the family will never experience it. Aunt 'Rina's is very strong; it's part of why she's in charge of our part of the family. Most of us here have it to some extent."

Stiles tilts his head. "When am I going to get it?" 

Aunt 'Rina scritches his hair, says, "We don't know, Pan-ling. It doesn't usually happen to Pans until after they ripen but -- with you? There's no guarantee. Your tree's very strong, after all, and you're exceptionally gifted. Have you ever felt it? The way I feel, or the way your _mère_ feels?" 

There was the time that mom pushed him down the stairs. Her feeling -- _bakkheia_ , Stiles guesses; he's not going to be able to call it something like 'feeling' now he knows the actual name -- warned him what was happening but _his_ _bakkheia_ kind of bloomed around him, fought hers back and cushioned his fall when he hit the floor. Then there was the time he broke that chipmunk's neck and gave the tiny little thing to the tree and followed it up with a couple drips of blood when his nose started bleeding; he smelled funny, then, less like his oak and kudzu and lemons and more -- woodsy. His _bakkheia_ smells wild, a teensy thing right now that's going to be big and scary when he's older, he already knows, with claws and fangs and growling. He's pack, after all. Even his Pan-ness recognises that. 

"Uh," Stiles says. "Maybe?" He gives Aunt 'Rina a hesitant smile, wilts under the force of her look. "Okay, yeah, a few times, but it's not -- it's still small? Like, super not at all intimidating, nothing major, harmless like a pup, that's me, yup, really just kind of cute and adorable and something you'd wanna give another praline or piece of fudge to." 

Cousin Leelee puts her hands over her face and Cousin Mel _does_ slide off the counter. The pralines are safe, though. Aunt 'Rina hauls Stiles up, says, "Bedtime, Pan-ling." 

"Aw, no fair!" Stiles complains. "I just got up!" 

"Say goodnight to everyone," Aunt 'Rina goes on. 

Stiles pouts but Aunt 'Rina remains unmoved. She generally does. She's very difficult to move; Stiles is convinced it has a lot to do with her tree -- it's old and well-rooted and just as unmoveable as Aunt 'Rina. They match pretty well. Stiles wonders if he's going to match his tree as well as Aunt 'Rina matches hers. His tree's kind of amazing. One day, maybe Stiles will be kind of amazing like his tree. It's something to look forward to. 

"Goodnight, everyone," Stiles says. He has enough time to hug most of them, has to settle for kissing cheeks and hair-ruffling from a few others, before Aunt 'Rina's tugged him out of the kitchen and towards the steps. "Did I say something wrong?" he asks, once it's just him and Aunt 'Rina. "Am I not -- should I not be -- are you upset I have my own _bakkheia_?"

"Not upset, Pan-ling," Aunt 'Rina tells him. "Just worried. You're so young. And there's no one in Beacon Hills to -- if someone caught you feeding your tree, no one would understand." 

Stiles thinks about that for a second. "But that's why Aunt Vesna's kid is coming, right?" he asks. "And my tree makes sure no one else is around. Not even the wolves. Well. Especially not the wolves. It's trying to keep me away from the wolves."

Aunt 'Rina leads Stiles into the bathroom, puts toothpaste on his toothbrush for him, tells him to brush while she gets his pyjamas. She disappears into his bedroom and Stiles brushes, reaches out and says goodnight to his tree and the preserve, too. He's spitting when Aunt 'Rina brings in his jammies and she checks his teeth, runs a damp cloth over his face before he takes off his blanket-cape, changes and pees, washes his hands. 

He goes into his bedroom and tells the ivy sweet dreams before he clambers into bed. Aunt 'Rina makes sure he's settled under his blankets as the lemon tree starts humming lullabies. 

"Aunt 'Rina?" Stiles says. He's not tired but he yawns, now that he's lying down and comfy. "Are there gonna be more secrets?" 

"Tomorrow, Pan-ling," Aunt 'Rina says. "And if you have any questions about tonight's, you can ask any of us." 

Stiles nods, says, "I like it." Aunt 'Rina asks him what he likes and Stiles says, " _Bakkheia_. It feels like this. Like being here with family and wrapped in my favourite blankets and the house smelling like pralines. It's -- I like it." 

"It's safe," Aunt 'Rina guesses. She always guesses right. Stiles thinks she'd be killer at Go Fish. "That's a good sign, Pan-ling. As long as it feels safe, you're on the right path." 

"Mom got lost a long time ago, didn't she," Stiles says. "Why didn't -- she doesn't -- when I was born, or when she started getting sick, or when she figured out about me and the tree, why didn't she --." 

Aunt 'Rina leans down, kisses Stiles' cheek. "She loves you so much. Never doubt that. No matter what she does or doesn't do, she loves you very much." 

Stiles bites his lip, eventually murmurs, "Not enough." 

"Oh, my Pan-ling," Aunt 'Rina says. It looks like she's about to cry. "Your mom's scared. Sometimes being scared outweighs everything else. It shouldn't, but it does. And I know we're not your mom, but everyone here loves you so much it kills us to send you back there. We'd keep you if we could." 

If Stiles hadn't bonded to his tree, he'd be able to stay -- but he wouldn't have his tree, then, and that's not something Stiles could ever imagine. The tree's _his_ and has been for half his life and will be for forever if he has anything to say about it. 

"I know," he says. "I love you guys, too." 

"Sweet dreams and sleep well," Aunt 'Rina tells him. "Things will look better in the morning." 

Stiles smacks his lips, sleepy now, asks, "Promise?" 

Aunt 'Rina tucks his blankets under his chin, traces the curve of his forehead. "I promise, Pan-ling." 

Stiles blinks up at her, smiles. Aunt 'Rina never breaks a promise.


End file.
